


Men of Action (Not Words)

by jdooly



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdooly/pseuds/jdooly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson gets caught up in his head every once and a while and Jimin’s really good at guiding him back. (PWP?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men of Action (Not Words)

**Author's Note:**

> Someone put the words Jackson and Jimin in the same sentence and this is all that came to mind.

Jimin blindly searches for his phone that’s been vibrating since what he guesses is two minutes ago. By the time he manages to drag his head up off the pillow to peel his eyes open and read his notification window, he has 5 missed texts and 2 missed calls that all read with the same contact name, Jackson.

He sighs and forces himself out of the cocoon of blankets. Jackson wouldn’t call unless he needed something, it must be important. He nearly trips on the dangling sheets when he stumbles out of the bunk, plunging into the darkness of the cramped room.

Jimin almost screams when Namjoon sits up his bunk, face bloated and golden blonde hair flying every which way. He returns to his slumber after seeing it’s just Jimin.

His phone grasped in his hand, he closes the bedroom door with a soft click. It’s just as dark outside in the living room with not even the glow of the television to accompany him. Jimin shuffles over to the entry way, where their shoes are shoved, piled and mismatched across the floor. He manages to shove his feet into a pair of nike's before he’s out the door and calling Jackson back.

The phone rings for a few moments while Jimin situates himself against the wall. Jackson answers, Jimin can hear the pounding bass in the background. He’s in the practice room then, he notes.

“Hey..” Jimin can tell by the tone of his voice. Jackson is filled with anxious energy.

“Hey. Sorry that I didn’t answer your call. I was knocked out.” He laughs. Jackson feels bad about bothering him.

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the line. Jackson is trying to organize his scattered thoughts. “Do you think maybe you could….” He bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth.

“Come dance with me.” Jackson is better off just saying it straight out instead of beating around the bush.

Jimin glances out of the window down the hall, the sky is still dark not a hint of a reddish glow anywhere on the horizon. “Alright. Give me 15 minutes.”

The line goes dead without Jackson saying anything. He just hung up. Jimin sighs, “..Troublesome,” yet there’s a smile on his face.

Jimin races down the flight of stairs spilling out onto the street. There’s not a car, nor another soul in sight. Jimin begins his chilly walk to the JYP office.

It’s been 20 minutes since he started his walk and Jimin’s not sure he can feel his fingers anymore. He buries them into the overbearing sleeves of Namjoon’s hoodie. When Jimin exhales he can see his breath in the frosty air. Jackson better have a good reason for this, after all Jimin braved the cold for this and he hasn’t got socks on.

Outside at the entrance of the JYP building, Jimin rings Jackson. “Come let in before I freeze to death out here..” His tone is impatient. His feet dance anxiously across the pavement as he jogs into place to keep the feeling in his toes. No socks was definitely a bad decision.

Within a few minutes, Jimin can see a blurry Jackson jogging toward him through the privacy glass.

“Sorry, I kind of forgot about the code and all that.” Per usual there’s a snapback perched on his head, the bill facing backwards. Jimin can see the sweat dripping from his temples and the wet slick on hair stuffed under the cap. His shirt clings to his back soaked with sweat. If Jimin had to take a guess, he’d say Jackson’s been here for a few hours now.

“You’ll catch a cold walking around like that,” Jimin scolds as he forces his ways past Jackson and into the warmth of the barely lit hall.

Jackson just laughs, “That’s what Jinyoung keeps telling me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Are we going to dance or not? Surely, I didn’t brave the cold just to chit-chat?”

Jackson takes his hand and drags him around the corner and down a flight of stairs to the practice room. They pass individual practice rooms and offices, conference rooms and dark studios. Jimin notices that the building is ghostly silent.

“What are you still doing here, Jackson? The whole building…Everyone is gone.”

“Just practicing…” His answer is easy, but the weight behind it causes Jimin’s forehead to crease.

He turns and smiles brightly at Jimin, but Jimin can see the tenseness in the once free expression.

“Come on,” once again they’re off down the hall and into the practice room just a few feet ahead. The room is half-lit and cool.

“Sorry about the lights. They automatically go off at 2 AM, I’m just used to it now.” Jimin watches him head over and press the play button on his iPod which is connected to the speaker system.

Old-school Chris Brown floods through the speakers, Jimin knows this song, loves it even. He stretches himself out at the outskirts of the room, not too far from Jackson. Hobeom might actually kill him if he pulls a muscle messing around.

The song loops and loops, Jimin gets lost in his body as he dances across the floor. Jackson is smiling and laughing and Jimin can’t help but do the same. It’s so easy to lose track when you’re doing what you love.

Somewhere between Jackson’s gyrating hips and Jimin’s tongue wetting his lips, Jimin manages to crowd Jackson against the mirror. Lips and teeth pressing kisses and playful nips into his skin.

Jimin knows that where strength is concerned, they’re on equal playing fields. Jackson could just as easily dominate Jimin, but that’s not what he wants tonight. He doesn’t put up too much of a fight when Jimin’s tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, probing and sliding against his own.

The noises that come out of Jackson’s mouth are absolutely sinful, sending pleasurable shocks through Jimin’s body. His cock is painfully hard inside his shorts.

Jimin kisses Jackson, mouth open and tongue seeking. It’s wet and hot and everything Jackson loves about Jimin. His fingers slide into Jimin’s hair and he tugs gently at the hair at the nap of his neck. Jimin loves it. He pulls away, pecking gently at Jackson’s swelling, pink lips slick with saliva.

Jackson tosses his shirt off, he thinks he hears it land in the corner by the door. Jimin can’t be bothered to take his clothes off, plus this is about Jackson right now.

“What are you worrying so much about?” He whispers into Jackson’s ear, tugging gently at the lobe with his teeth. He mouths behind his ear as Jackson tilts his head, offering him better access.

Jackson huffs, “You know, I don’t know how to hold back.” Jimin pauses momentarily, before biting roughly into his neck. Jackson’s answering hiss is enough to make him smirk.

“You don’t need to hold back. Since when do the words ‘Jackson’ and ‘hold back’ correspond to each other?” Jimin teases as Jackson digs his fingers into Jimin’s shoulders.

“In my solo activities, I’ve just put all of myself out there. Is there anything left for me to have to myself?” The once lust-filled atmosphere has shifted into heavy and emotional. Jimin hasn’t had the chance to have any solo activities yet, so he doesn’t really get it, but if he tries hard enough to put himself in Jackson’s place he might.

“Right here, with me. This is something that everyone else won’t have.” Jimin is almost surprised at how sincere those words are, he’d really meant that. Jackson’s breath hitches and Jimin can hear the shuddering breath he takes. Jackson is so close to a mental breakdown that Jimin knows there nothing he can do but be the catalyst that begins the inevitable implosion.

He mouths at Jackson’s jaw, leaving sloppy wet trails in his wake. Down his neck, his chest. He makes a pit-stop, bitting and tugging at his nipples until they’re painfully erect and equally sensitive. Jackson sucks in the attention greedily. This is what he wants, what he needs.

Kisses are trailed down his tuft of hair surrounding his navel, which Jimin lets his tongue dip into. Jackson tastes like sweat and the fading musk of expensive body wash. Jimin’s fingers tug Jackson’s pants to his ankles along with his briefs, allowing his cock to spring free nearly whacking Jimin in the face.

Jimin looks up at the thwacking sound against the floor. Jackson’s snapback is resting across the room. When Jackson’s eyes meet Jimin’s he really wishes he hadn’t looked down. Even with his fingers framing Jackson’s hip, pupils blown wide with lust and cheeks dusting red, Jimin still looks innocent.

He groans softly as his cock twitches in interest and time with his thoughts. Jimin just smiles, wrapping his fingers loosely around the shaft.

“Let me take care of you.” There’s no question in voice, just the statement. He is going to take care of Jackson. Jackson nods and closes his eyes briefly. When Jimin mouth settles over his hip, his eyes flash open momentarily. Jimin catches his eyes once again before focusing on sucking a bruise into the flesh stretched over his hip bone. Jackson’s teeth sink into his lip as his head tilts back against the mirror. The pain is soothed by the lapping of Jimin’s tongue though it just increases the burning heat.

Jackson will have a hard time explaining that one, but at least it’s not publicly visible to all of their fans. His mouth falls open, as Jimin takes the crown of his cock into his mouth. His fingers that were once loosely wrapped around the shaft tighten into a fist around his engorged flesh. Jackson’s balls are heavy and full, Jimin reminds himself to play with them for awhile. The taste Jackson leaves on his tongue is bitter, but Jimin finds an appeal to it.

He sucks at the head, teasing. Jackson’s stomach muscles are wound tight, Jimin can see the slight quiver in his thigh. Jackson’s fingers slide into his hair again, rubbing fondly at his skull. Jimin glances up at him again. This time Jackson is not deterred by the unspoken words in his gaze. Whatever this is, this fragile balance between them, it’s theirs and that’s all that matters. Jackson wouldn’t call it love, and Jimin wouldn’t call it mutual loneliness. The closest thing they’d call it is Warmth.

Jackson is almost embarrassed when he whines, "More...." but he'll be worried about that later. Jimin will take care of him.

Jackson eyes clench shut as Jimin slowly works his cock into his throat. His mouth opens and closes, lips parting to take in shuddering breaths. He tongue dips out to wet his dry lips. A moan escapes from deep in his throat. Jimin’s resounding hum, sends waves of pleasure shooting through his nerves. His body is humming with pent up energy. He can hear his heart thundering in his ears.

When he manages to open his eyes again, the sight that greets him makes him wish he hadn’t. Jimin’s lips are stretched around his cock, his nose buried in the fuzz of hair disguising the base of his cock. There’s drool leaking from the corners of his mouth wetting his chin, and tears gathering in his eyes. Jimin is so beautiful like this and Jackson’s eyes only.

‘Jimin’ falls from his mouth over and over as his climax fast approaches. His back arches, shoulder blades pressing painfully into the mirror. His hips thrust forward on their own account, nearly choking Jimin in the process. Jimin adjusts his position, forcing Jackson’s hips back against the wall with the strength in his arms. Jimin pulls back, rolling his thumb across the head as he pumps Jackson’s cock.

In the next instance, Jackson is coming, painting Jimin’s fingers with oozing white. Jimin is almost disgruntled by how Jackson tugs on his hair but he can’t bring himself to care as Jackson shudders bodily, his jerking forward as if he had more to give. Jimin pumps and squeezes at his shaft, milking him for all that its worth.

Jackson collapses onto the floor, knees giving out. Jimin barely has enough time to scoot back before a pile of Jackson lands on him. Jackson is pretty sure he whacked his head on the mirror pretty hard there because his vision is black for a while. When he comes around, Jimin hands his shorts and underwear around his knees, hand pumping his cock. His fingers slick with Jackson’s come and the pre-come leaking from his cock.

He’s tense as he hunches over, focusing. Jackson lends him a hand, pulling him into his lap, replacing Jimin’s hand with his own spit-slicked fingers. Jimin likes it tight and wet. Jimin’s hands plant themselves against the mirror behind Jackson, and he really doesn’t want to think about how he’s going to explain sticky finger prints to Jaebum and their dance instructor.

It doesn’t take but a mere few minutes for Jimin to come, coating Jackson’s chest with his release. He’s a relatively quiet lover but Jackson thinks he heard a muffled groan of his name when he came.

Jimin open his eyes staring down at a sated Jackson, who stares back at him. No words are exchanged except Jackson’s, “Thank you.”

Jackson lifts Jimin off his lap, who spouts protests about “cold floors!” while Jackson just laughs. His pants and briefs are pulled back up, cock tucked safely back inside. Jackson shrugs his shirt back on and pockets his iPod, which has long since gone dead. When he looks up at the clock it’s 4:30 in the morning.

“Sorry for calling you out so late.” Jimin looks up at the words directed at him. His scalp is dully throbbing, if Jimin's honest it leaves him with a satisfied feeling of confidence.

“It was worth it, it’s not like I have a schedule today anyway.” He smiles, eyes crinkling into crescents and Jackson would think he’d fallen in love with the way his stomach flutters, his own smile gracing his face. Jimin can tell that it’s a real one this time.

Jackson reaches a hand out to pull Jimin off the floor, which Jimin accepts. He immediately tugs his underwear and shorts back up, hiding away from Jackson’s prying eyes. Jimin wipes his hand on the shorts he’s wearing, he’s kind of disgusted by it. He thinks these are Taehyung’s and he’ll definitely have to make it up to the poor guy.

A yawn forces its way out of Jimin. His back arched, arms raised as he stretches it out and Jackson feels kind of guilty. Jimin just tugs him over to the sofa stuffed into the corner of the room. “After all the things I do for you, a cuddle should be the least of your troubles.” He mumbles, forcing Jackson into the soft leather.

Jackson lays back as Jimin crawls into his side, throwing a leg over his hip and an arm around his neck. He’s kinda of worried about being choked but it’s Jimin so he figures it’s alright. Jimin is out like a light after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of their breathing.

Jackson honestly doesn’t know when he fell asleep but his mind is pretty blank when he does.

If it hadn’t been for Jaebum and Hobeom storming into the practice room later on that morning, Jackson figures he would’ve slept peacefully through the day. But as life would have it, Jimin is getting dragged out of Jackson’s arms by an annoyed Hobeom who’s going on about Yoongi coming in at 5 in the morning only to notice Jimin is missing from among the dead sleeping in their bunks, who then woke up Seokjin who panicked and woke up Namjoon who said he said he might’ve seen him leave the room earlier that morning.

It occurs to Jimin in that moment that maybe he should’ve left a note or sent a text to Yoongi, to at least inform someone of his whereabouts instead of having Seokjin freak out and call Hobeom. Jimin kind of regrets not doing that.

The distinct smell of stale sex lingers in the air and they're so busted. Jackson can't think of a quick-fire excuse and to be honest, he doesn't want to me. He's not embarrassed about what went on, but he'd frankly would've preferred Mark's silent presence to Jaebum's overwhelming aura.

Jaebum doesn’t look much happier, eyes narrowing at the fingerprinted mirror before turning on Jackson. Jackson thinks he can see the devil’s wrath within his eyes.

He silently thanks the heavens that it’s just Jaebum and not Jaebum and Jinyoung, together they are a forced to be reckoned with.

He spares a worried glance at Jimin who is getting dragged out of the door, waving and promising to call him soon. Jackson thinks he might have to take a rain check on that.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually put dialogue in there. I struggle so much with dialogue yet for some reason it came easy to me today? This is one of the few times that I am actually satisfied with my smut? I'm not really that good at it? I don't know, anyway off topic! I hope you enjoyed it, please leave any constructive criticisms and kudos and all that lovely stuff. Thanks!


End file.
